Machete Marks and Chainsaw Sounds
by Ashurri1443
Summary: The figure stood tall and towered over her, a visible long weapon clutched in his mammoth sized hand. Riley dropped the crowbar and fell to the ground, her butt connecting with the ground harshly. Her eyes were wide, "Jason...Voorhees..."
1. Welcome to Wessex County

**A/N: Hello Everyone, here is the start of my Friday the 13th story; continuing where we left off in "Masks and StraightJackets". I thought it would be fit to post it on Halloween, this is my treat to you so go out there tonight and have fun! I have recently gotten some really awesome horror movies, old and new so new stories may shortly be arriving. I am also going to inform you all that I will be making another Michael Myers story soon, but it will only be a Halloween story this time. Riley has now entered Jason's domain, Camp Crystal Lake do you think she will survive? We are using the recent 2009 Jason, with a few tidbits of the Jason from "Freddy vs Jason". I hope you enjoy it. I do not own anything to do with Friday the 13th, I only own my own characters.**

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Three hours on a greyhound bus sitting between a sleeping old man and a talkative middle aged woman had drained the life-force out of her. Good thing the stop was right across from an outpost. Riley leaned against a gas pump and silently munching on a chocolate bar and listening to the haunting music on ipod, she smiled and tapped her foot silently as "Everybody Scream" by Rob Zombie shuffled on. She scanned the area while finishing the last of her sugar supplement, one intoxicated man with a dented pick-up truck and old woman leaving the store with cat food. A small smile formed on her face and she turned her head to look down the road. The town seemed small and pleasant. Her eyes transfixed on the green large sign in the distance surrounded by a numerous amount of large foliage; "**Welcome to Crystal Lake**." She stood up to get a better view of the sign. Rumors had spread across the countryside and even she had heard of the old famous story about a machete mad killer that had been born with his assumed death and his mother's demise. Many people from her school would patronize said killer about his upbringing, actions, and appearance, she could relate far too well. Besides wouldn't you kill if boozed up nymphomaniac teenagers continuously attempted to have intercourse on your camp? She figured it was an insanely large pain in the rear end. Shifting her duffel bag a bit on her arm she strolled over to the trash can located near the wall, paying no heed to the bumbling brute as he consumed his alcohol. Riley flicked the trash down the chute, standing on the tips of her toes to watch it fall down and collect on top of the other articles of rubbish.

An abrupt cough made her snap her head back, to stare at the man as he carelessly tossed his empty beer can to the ground; stepping on it and crushing the can as he sauntered forward. The man grinned, showing off a slick and mossy smile before speaking. "Aren't you a little young to be walking around at night, all by _yourself?_"

She advanced forward, brushing pass him briskly only to be stopped at the end of his truck when placed his arm in front of her. Riley glanced through the outpost doors; the clerk was too engrossed in his smut magazine to notice. She feigned a small smile and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Nope" she retorted, her voice quiet and brusque than usual. "Now if you don't mind-."

She took a step forward once more, only to have the drunken man close in, causing the small of her back to press against the cold side of the pick-up. "Well, actually I do mind. I was wondering if you wanted a ride, I'll take you anywhere you want." Riley bit her lip and remained silent and still, flinching upon a large hand grasping her shoulder tightly and steering her toward the door. "And then some."

She had never been overwhelmed by panic before, because if that fickle emotion did take control it made people do reckless things; things that aren't thought out before execution, things that one would look back upon with chagrin. After one tends to panic, there is always a sinking feeling that one gets when they realize: They are utterly screwed. Riley was no exception. She groped around on the back of the pick-up truck her adversary had balefully backed her into and snatched up the nearest object she touched. Time slowed within the minutes it took her to swing that crowbar directly at the man, stabbing with the hooked end in the shoulder and sending blood spewing out of the wound and landing delicate crimson drops upon her face. His gruff bellow shattered her ears and during the time it took for him to comprehend the situation she sprinted out of the outpost parking lot and down the main road; still clutching the rusty crowbar in hand and her bag still on her shoulder. In sudden realization, he gained composure and made haste into their truck roaring out profanities as he did so. She continued to bolt down the road as the rumbling thunder of the engine followed. A few minutes into chase her eyes flickered upward, reading the sign once more before escaping into the dense forest surrounding Crystal Lake and tossing her bag into the bushes. Riley stopped for a moment, turning her head toward the entrance she had so cowardly fled into and listened as the truck screeched painfully on the road. The slam of the door indicated her to flee once more, and she obliged. Boughs ensnared and slapped her arms and face as she quickly trudged forward; she paid no mind and continued. Her knuckles cracked on the amount of force she squeezed her only source of protection. She knew she should have taken up Mama Firefly's offer on that pistol.

"Where are ya running to, bitch? No one lives out in these parts, bet you were thinkin' that the big ol' killer Jason would've scared me. Huh? HUH?!" he yelled after her, she silently slipped behind a tree and strained to breath in desperate amounts of air quietly. Riley placed a hand over her neck, her pulse fluttering against the skin. She forced herself to peek around the large trunk of the tree, only to see nothing in the darkness; nothing but foliage and the lake. With a sigh of relief she turned around, the sigh managed to end up short when two large hands closed around her throat and squeezed tightly.

"Holy f-fucktards, when did you get here?" She managed to squeak out, oblivious to the man that attempted to choke her. Before he could retort back a drunken slur, she kneed him right in the ol' sunshine paddy. Yes, that's right… the sunshine paddy. He doubled over and clutching his groin before bringing back a hand and punching her across the face, her head flew to the right; mouth open in surprise and blood trickling down from her nose. A distraught scream escaped her throat as she quickly brought the crowbar to his side, hearing a satisfying snap and yell from her attacker he fell to the ground. Coming out of her daze she walked forward and stared at the man, he had been snapped out of his drunken stupor and held his injured side. She stood there and silently contemplated on which action to take next; she silently bit her lip and tasted the copper dripping from her nose.

She could leave right now, letting the man return home with his punishment only to have him wake up and alert the local police about what happened. She would get caught. Riley slowly raised the make-shift weapon that was coated in blood, tears starting to stream from her eyes and arms shaking. He turned and grinned up at her with a sleazy smile; beckoning her, mocking her. As her arms began to lower the sound of steady footfall approaching quickly, she snapped her head up upon seeing a solid silhouette moving its way in her direction. The figure stood tall and towered over her, a visible long weapon clutched in his mammoth sized hand. Riley dropped the crowbar and fell to the ground, her butt connecting with the ground harshly. She scrambled backwards and her eyes widened as the figure brought his arm down in a swiping motion and slashed the man in the neck, the blade becoming embedded in the flesh of his neck before he yanked it out roughly. The unknown man stood in silence, chest heaving and staring at the deceased man. She whimpered and his head shot up to stare at her. It was then that the world around her turned black and she fell into unconsciousness.


	2. Watching and Waiting

**A/N: Spread the word that the story Masks and StraightJackets is over people, I keep getting "Update soons" I am glad you like it but we have moved pass the Michael Myers chronicles for the time being. On with the Voorhees, Babeh! My favorite little masked serial killer. Riley is getting a bit more trouble than she asked for when she moves in on Jason's territory. Sorry for the slow update, I needed inspiration but you guys inspire me well enough. I still owe someone a one-shot, I know. I'm sorry. School has been very hard lately. I can only type in moderation these days. But I will get to it! I will, I promise before this story is over I will finish the Mike Myers one-shot for my beloved friend! I do not own Jason or Friday the 13th, however I do own Riley Elizabeth Spyder. My mini me. Enjoy and review!**

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Her hand was currently clasped over her mouth and nose, using it as a mask while she slowly breathed in and out and adapted the damp moldy air. She sat on the floor, her small frame shaking from the cold and fears and tear stains mingled with mud on her skin. A disheveled home was a strange sight when she emerged from slumber. The only recollection that was fresh in her brain before passing out was loud footfall and the sight of a large silhouette that had towered over her. Now, she sat in a rickety cabin that appeared abandoned. Wessex County sure did have a way of hospitality, Riley mused silently pondering upon the drunken brute she had encountered last night. She glanced around silently observing her surroundings, eyes darting left and right and apprehensive. The room had once been occupied by a child she observed. Small mementos of toys and play-things littered the top of the dresser. She placed the palms of her hands on the wooden floor and pushed herself up before advancing forward and inspecting them for a moment. They were old but had a small spark to them; she gazed at the Yankee Doodle Ukulele and small knickknacks. Turning her head, her heart skipped a beat when she saw the exit. Taking a deep breath and repeating the phrase "Now or Never" she poked her head out the door and scanned down the hall and into the joined living room and kitchen. The steps beneath her creaked as she shuffled hurriedly down the hall, taking worried glances over her shoulder. The kitchen and sitting room was in the same shape as the other room she woke in, furniture thrown carelessly everywhere and some floorboards uprooted haphazardly. _Oh, well this should be like home. It looks just like Malachi's bedroom_ she thought with slight humor. She pattered around the strange and unknown vicinity like a small child, marveling at the new and unfamiliar things. Her nose crinkled at the sight of some moldy food that appeared to have been on the counter for ages but then moved on, opening the cabinets in curiosity. As soon as she opened the top cabinet she lurched back in fear, watching as a rat scuttled away into the darkness behind the cans of old expired food. She picked up a random can from the back, turning it over in her hands and examining the label. The label looked damaged by age and water damage, the paper thin and tearing off but she clearly saw the name, "Ravioli: Chef Boyardee."

Out-dated canned goods seemed to have a certain charm. Weird. Riley set down the can and then shut the cabinets before turning around, meeting face to face with a broad chest clothed in a worn and torn dirt smudged shirt. She froze in place, blood turning cold and heart stopping in an instant. She hoped to dear god it was a friendly lumberjack like in that story Little Red Riding hood. Riley slowly began to glance upward then paused mid-way, spotting the long rusty machete. A small flashback of the night before flickered in her head, the murder weapon of her savior. However, saviors can become villains. She continued upward, the humming rhythm of her heart pulsing in her ears. She got to his chin; the flesh covered by a dirty plastic material was all she needed to see. Immediately she sprinted backwards, the small of her back and palms hitting the counter; and fingers gripping the edge for dear life. Jason Voorhees was no legend. No rumor. He was real, standing before her in flesh and blood. He advanced with aggression, his black eyes hidden behind the mask bore a sinister gleam, and she heard his knuckles crack with force as he gripped the handle to his blade tighter. She panicked, she was going to die. She **was **going to die. He didn't save her out of an act of chivalry, he wanted to save her so he could finish her off for trespassing and nothing could change his mind now. Desperate to escape, she reached behind her hurriedly and grasped the nearest thing closest to her as a weapon. Who would have thought Chef Boyardee would be the hero in a situation like this? She lifted up the can as a threat and watched as he moved quicker, enraged now.

She then bellowed out, her voice sharp and high-pitched. "Stay back, I'm warning you! I have expired pasta!"

He paid no heed. So, she chucked it right at his head and it whizzed by his left ear; missing by inches. She was always a bad aim. Cursing under her breath she leapt into action, blindly running to the exit in fear with the monstrous large man following in suit. She reached out her arms to the wooden door, scrambling to open the doorknob but her hands were shaking. Riley prayed loudly in her head, begging god for forgiveness and mercy. Please, I will go to church on Sunday's, I will donate to charity, follow every rule in the bible. Anything. Thick fingers grasped the back of her shirt, lifting her up like her weight was nothing. Riley flailed her arms out and screamed, tears beginning to prick the corners of her eyes. Her nails scarcely reached the door and left desperate scratches on the wood. All movements were ceased when the cold metal blade was pressed against the base of her throat. Her hand reached up and grabbed his. She tried to lift it away but it would not budge.

"I'm sorry…Jason" She croaked. A moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever, and then she was roughly thrown to the ground. She hit the floor hard and curled up as soon as she made contact, arms over her head and sharp breaths escaping her mouth. She listened as his lumbering footfall faded away and she was left alone. After finding inner solace, Riley pushed her upper body off from the creaky hardwood floor. She stared where he made his exit and shivered in place. He had spared her, for how long she did not know. Why, she did not know. She did not know. Riley lowered her head and body into the ground once more willing her fear away. She laid there for eternity.

"_Good boy Jason, just wait and watch for now. Don't kill. Not unless mommy tells you to. My precious baby Boy…" _

Riley sat on the verandah of the Voorhees Estate. She snorted in response to her naïve wording, still shaken up by the entire near-death experience. She sat under the leaking roof with her knees pulled strongly up to her chest and eyes staring out into the pouring rain. Her things were surely getting soaked where she had thrown them to escape her now deceased attacker the night before. She rested her chin on her boney patellas and sighed inwardly. She had not seen… Jason in a manner of hours, how a large man such as himself could disappear in thin air was beyond him. He must have a lot of practice hiding. The thought of running back to the main road was suicide, she had seen the horror movies, it never worked and she was not going to follow all of the Malibu Barbie bitches examples. Nope, sitting in solitude and waiting for the inevitable end seemed like a bright and dandy idea at the moment. She sniffed her clothes and then her hair, blocking out the scent of rain. She reeked of blood, mud, and Jason Voorhees. Which was a mixture of the two with a small dash of…. saltwater? All the girls at school would be jealous if they saw her now, wearing the brand spanking new line of "Camp Blood Fever" perfume. She laughed weakly and rested her eyes, being aware of the sounds around her; the nonstop symphony of rainfall and creaking of the old shack-like structure behind her. She wasn't prepared for the crude introduction. Riley snapped her eyes open at the large crash, she flinched upon spotting him. Jason stood before her, soaked to the bone and intently staring at her face. She stared back and then submissively averted her eyes before settling on the items before her. Her duffle bag sitting before her, drenched and most likely the clothes and items inside too but nothing that she couldn't salvage. She opened her mouth but before a hoarse word of appreciation escaped, he brushed pass quickly; machete still in tow.

She waited in place, debating if she should follow or try to speak with him. But then again he still seemed a little miffed. She settled back down comfortably once more and stared off into space. "He's testing me.... one false move and I am target practice."


End file.
